If You'd Only Return
by Roaniegal
Summary: When his son and daughter-in-law left Hillwood for San Lorenzo, Phil never imagined he'd end up raising a child from scratch again. Now lit with demons from his lost son's disappearance, he must try to become a parent again. If only his son could return...
1. Chapter 1

**(A/N): I've always loved the bond Arnold and Phil have in HA! and I realize how much losing a child must have hurt Phil and Gertie. So, this is to explore that a bit and go through the years with Phil and Arnold. Enjoy!**

* * *

"Miles… Son, can we have a word?"

Miles jerked, glancing at his father and sighing. Nodding, he followed Phil to the door and gently closed it. If he woke Arnold, Stella would never forgive him. He followed Phil up to the roof, and together they sat staring at the skyline. Hillwood was bathed in blood. Phil let out another sigh, reaching for his son's hand and grasping it tightly.

"Son… you don't have to go, you know. Eduardo, the Green-Eyed People. You owe them nothing. But, your son… you owe Arnold everything."

Miles leapt up, stomping away and crossing his arms. "That's EXACTLY why I have to go! Arnold deserves parents who didn't act selfishly. If we stay here with Arnold and an entire village… _an entire people_ … die out because we refused to go, what would that say about us? What would we tell him? What would he tell his kids?! I couldn't live with the guilt. And I don't think Stella could either. Look, Dad. If you don't want to take care of him, that's—"

"NOT what this is about, and you know it. Miles… you're my son. I love you so much, and it hurts your mother and me to think about you leaving Arnold behind. Heck, I couldn't do it. I wouldn't have left you for anything."

"Rub it in, Dad. You're a better parent than me."

The agitation in Miles' voice caused Phil to jerk, and he shook his head, moving to stand beside his son and placing his hand on Miles' shoulder. "I never said that, or thought it. You know, Miles, I got a job when you were very small, a few states away. That job had everything a man could dream of. Amazing pay, great hours and I would've never worked a holiday. It had benefits for Pookie, for you and Tara. It would have made Sunset Arms the best dang boarding house this side of the Mississippi."

Miles stared at his father, knitting eyebrows in concern. "What happened?"

"I couldn't stay away. Your mother couldn't have gone with me, not in her condition." Phil glanced to his son, then out to look across the city, and Phil's hands grasped the railing on the roof. "She was pregnant with Johnny then. And you were a lil tyke, and Tara was so young. I tried to go… but I came back two days later. I missed you all so much, I just couldn't do it. Miles, I know better than anybody what you're facing right now. I understand. Pookie and I didn't put you through college to become a doctor and scientist for nothing. Your drive to help people is so rare, and to find somebody like Stella for a mate who shares that passion… it's a gift, son. I just don't want you to forget what's truly important. I know how you are during missions, Son. The year you flew off to San Lorenzo, your mother and I heard from you four times. We were terrified you were dead. I don't want that for your son. He doesn't deserve that. O' course, we didn't either, but we accepted it as your job. But it's different now. You can't let that mission take priority over your boy. This needs to be your last mission. You owe the Green-Eyes your lives, and so it is for that reason you should go. When that debt is fulfilled, you must return home and focus on Arnold… and I know you will. You've always been a good boy, Miles. Sometimes, I can hardly believe you're a grown man with a family of your own. Your mother and I will protect that family with all we have, until you return." Phil's gaze turned solemn and he cut it to his son, grasping him by the shoulders.

"Understand?"

Miles nodded, tears in his eyes. His father always knew what to say. Moving forward, he grabbed his father in a hug and buried his face in Phil's shoulder.

"Dad, I don't want to leave him. He said his first words only the other day. We're only supposed to be gone a month, at the very most, but we're going to miss so much. Take as many pictures as you can, Dad. And when we come back, we'll never leave him again."

It was only a few days later that Miles and Stella kissed their son goodbye, and Miles hugged his parents again, waving goodbye as they got in the cab to head to the airport.

* * *

 **(A/N):**

 **I'll touch on Johnny and Tara in a later chapter. Bottom line is this: Phil is born from 1914-1916, (I'm going with 1915) meaning he's a young adult in the mid 1930s and 40s... although not a pre-birth control world, I imagine Phil and Gertie both grew up very poor, being in the depression. My great grandmother was born 1925, so they are around the same age. In those days, it was common for larger families to happen, and as much as Phil and Gertie seem to love kids, it makes more sense they'd have more children than just Miles.**


	2. Chapter 2

Look what I found on an old USB! The second chapter!

* * *

"Mommy…Daaaaaddy!"

The whimper caused Phil to groan. The transition from grandparent to full-time parent of Arnold had not been easy at all. After all, it had been years… years and years, and even more years… since Phil had cared for a baby. Where Stella and Miles had been, now there was Phil and Gertie, at least until Miles and Stella returned. Frankly, Phil hoped it would be soon. And it had only been a week!

Arnold had been so clingy lately, and the baby book that Phil and Gertie had presented Stella and Miles with said that this "attachment" to the older couple could happen when new situations arrived. Phil prayed the clinginess would go away when Miles returned.

Another whimper at the door.

Groaning again, Phil tried his best to not awaken his wife and opened the door to find Arnold there, tears pouring down his little face and clutching a small airplane.

Phil blinked and bent down, knees creaking. "Hey, Shortman... what are you doing down here?!" He smiled softly as he thought of that nickname that he once had called Miles as the boy was growing up. A sniffle from his grandson brought him out of his memory and to the little infant in his arms.

"I miss my Mommy… and my daddy."

 _So do I, Little Man. So do I._ Phil thought, but instead he ruffled the soft blond hair and headed upstairs with Arnold, making note to buy a baby gate.

"Why don't I tell you a story about your daddy, Arnold?"

As Phil tucked the sleeping child in, he chuckled at thinking how Miles would be mortified if he could hear this story. Brushing Arnold's hair back, he kissed the boy and watched at how the prospect of hearing a story had changed his attitude. Phil laid the child down in his crib, he smiled and sat down in the glider adjacent to it.

"Well now. Let's see. I reckon your daddy was about five or so, and there was a circus in town…"

Before the story about Miles' disappearance and impromptu circus performance was even halfway finished, Arnold was sound asleep and Phil tucked the boy in, kissing him goodnight. Thankfully, Arnold slept through that night, but Phil found in the following nights the routine was much the same. Wake up at an ungodly hour and talk about his son, which became harder and harder as time went on.

One night after the story, Phil tiptoed out of Arnold's room and closed the door. Pausing, he stood at the top of the stairway for a long time, his mind whirring. It was October eighth. It had been over three months since his son had left, and there had been no word. He and Gertie had tried to contact Eduardo, but they had not had any luck. Their days spent with worry, and nights were spent clutching each other and yearning for some small bit of comfort that their son was still alive, still coming, and this made for a less-than-cheery grandfather. As his spirits dampened, anger began replacing his sorrow.

 _I should have insisted they stay, told Miles his duty was to Arnold. If they never come back it is my fault..._

Finally, three days ago, he and Gertie had gotten word from San Lorenzo's government that they had officially declared the much-loved American couple "missing" and were conducting an all-out search. _October the Fifth… pah!_ The date would be forever burned into Phil's mind, and he knew if his son wasn't located soon, his Gertie would lose it. _Thank God, she's holding onto hope._

Of course, Phil was too. It had only been a few months, after all. And they both had gone longer than this since hearing from their Golden Boy. However, something told Phil this was different. Father's intuition, Phil supposed, if such a thing existed. Whatever it was, he could only hope it was wrong as he clutched the stair railing, his knuckles whitening from his grip.

 _Miles, you missed his second birthday. How could you have done this to HIM?! I told you, I TOLD you. Christmas will be here soon… and the only thing Shortman wants is you and Stella. Please, don't fail him, son._

Stuck in his thoughts as he descended the stairway, Phil slammed into Mr. Huynh, and before he could apologize, Mr. Huynh turned to Phil and clasped him on the shoulder.

"Mister Shortman."

Phil nodded, but Mr. Huynh continued, causing Phil to pause and look to him.

"You will see him again. You know, as parents, I have no choice but to believe that I'll find Mai one day. It's been over twenty years, and I have never found her. She may not even be here, or not even in this state. But I have faith, yes. Faith! We have to have, that is. Your son is good boy. Like his own son. You must know you'll see each other again."

Phil nodded slowly, his voice cracking as he brushed past his tenant and replied for only Huynh to hear, "Yes, but will it be in this life or after, Lành? That's my real question. Goodnight."

Settling into bed, Phil felt his Pookie's arm wrap around him as she propped up onto her elbow.

"He'll come back, Phil. Miles has to. For Arnold."

Phil nodded, forcing confidence to radiate from every inch of him as he firmly kissed his wife on the lips. "Of course he will! You know our son. Good at worrying us is something he mastered long ago. Goodnight, dear."

* * *

The first snow of the winter brought along the usual bumps of the boarding house. Flu, colds, and a broken heater were the physical things that could certainly keep owners of a boarding house busy, but not Sunset Arms' owners. Oh no. After all, they had Arnold to think about.

Arnold, oh how that boy had grown! And how Gertie loved parading their little grandson around Hillwood, especially to the park where lots of little babies just Arnold's age seemed to go. As Halloween grew closer, the excitement in the boarding house grew more palpable and Phil laughed outright as October 31st came about and down Gertie came in brown sweats, with Arnold clinging onto her back. He was dressed in a full cowboy outfit, complete with hat and shoes. When Phil offhandedly mentioned this, Gertie rolled her eyes as she gently bucked, causing Arnold to squeal happily.

"Of course he's got his hat. Ya think Billy would be Billy without his hat?"

Letting out a "Yee-haw!" they galloped through the halls, and Phil shook his head. The longer Gertie went without hearing from their son, the worse she became. She had always been silly, but this was on a completely different scale.

Moving into the living room, Phil grabbed a photo album and sat down, leafing through it. Stopping only a few pages in, he smiled wistfully at the old photos. One in particular caught his attention, and his thumb rubbed across it, chuckling at the little girl in her party dress and the delighted Gertie behind her. Underneath, in the slim and elegant cursive of Gertrude, stood the caption:

 _Tara Elyse Shortman, Third Birthday And Party, August the 22_ _nd_ _, 1943_

Phil sighed, clutching the book a bit. He had only been twenty-five when his little girl was born, and had missed so much of her life during that war. But duty had called, and he had gladly answered that call on September the first of 1939; a choice he never regretted. He wasn't as brave as most, despite his Purple Heart and his brave actions that helped topple the Regime. Phil shook his head and continued flipping through the old album. He could hear the boarders doing god-knows-what, but he ignored it. He stopped after about a dozen pages, his smile dimming as his lip clenched.

 _Walter Miles Shortman, Hillwood Medical, June the 22_ _nd_ _, 1950_

The picture was grainy, but to Phil it was as if he was seeing it for the very first time. He could remember it so clearly, that special day.

 _He had picked up Tara from school, trying to not bounce. Right as he was leaving the hospital, the doctor had come with the news that he was a daddy again. The joy in Phil filled the room as he and Tara entered that hospital room, where Gertie grinned at the both of them as she held a very small blanket. As Phil kissed her, she hugged him and turned the blanket to show a little boy with very fine blond hair, and Phil was in love at once. Although Tara was ten, she bonded quickly with Miles and the family seemed complete. Business was good, and then—_

"Phil! Gertie says it is lunchtime! Come and get it!" Ernie said, and Phil jerked up and waved his hand, giving a half-hearted smile to Ernie.

"Oh, I had a big lunch. Make sure Shortman eats!"

Phil went back to the book as Ernie left, and as he turned past a few more pages. As he came across another photo, he couldn't help but laugh.

 _His Gertie was standing on the steps of the Sunset Arms, face scrunched up in anger. She held an infant on her arms, as three-year-old Miles hid partially behind her skirt with muddy clothes and thirteen-year-old Tara stood, with what Phil assumed was mud, in her hands. The glare she was giving Gertie was so very, very much a mirror of her mother's that Phil was taken back into those days when children were everywhere, and the boarding house wasn't so run down, wasn't so in need of repairs they couldn't afford. That day however, it seemed as though the entire world was shining just for them, and Phil grinned as he thumbed the picture carefully._

 _"_ _Tara_ _Elyse Shortman! Just what do you think you are doing?!"_

 _Tara paused, slinging mud one last time towards Miles and looking up with big innocent blue eyes._

 _"_ _Nothing bad, Mama. I'm only playing!"_

 _"_ _You're going to get dirty! And I am not bathing you again. Do you hear me?"_

 _Phil laughed, nodding to the camera. "Gertie, just look at the camera… I didn't pay so much for it, only for you to ignore it and make such a fuss over a little mud. Come on now. We just brought Johnny home! Smile, aren't you happy?"_

 _Tara slung mud at Miles as he stuck out his tongue, and as the shutter went off, Gertie scowled. A moment caught forever._

Heaviness slammed into Phil and he continued, brushing tears away as the next page yielded his Johnny's birth certificate.

 _Johnathan Philip Shortman, April the 10_ _th_ _, 1953_

The next few pages showed moments in time Phil was so glad now that he had captured, as the back and white, and then sienna prints stared at him, the faces of his three beloved kids enraptured by different things. The first birthday of Johnny, and then as the next few years of photos passed as Phil went through the book, his stomach got heavier as he watched Johnny grow up.

Then, the moment he dreaded came up in the album.

Phil flinched as he turned the page, and saw the embossed death certificate. The page was wrinkled from tears and his Gertie's handwriting was nearly unrecognizable.

 _Johnathan Philip Shortman, Into Heavenly Rest: August the 17_ _th_ _, 1956._

Phil gripped the book, and he felt tears run down his cheeks. His little boy… it was not fair! Polio had claimed their little boy, settling into his lungs and causing him to stop breathing. He was only three...

A loud shriek cut Phil from his sorrow and he jerked up, seeing Gertie spin Arnold around, apparently pretending to be a plane.

 _We've already buried one child, must we bury another? God, please, Gertie couldn't bear it a second time… I'll really lose her this time._

Sighing, Phil stood and put the book up, wiping his face. He didn't want to get any further. Besides, it was late, and there was trick-or-treating to do.

Pausing, he glanced out the window at the small flurries whipping around outside and his mind went to warm, sunny San Lorenzo.

 _Miles…_

* * *

 _ **Deciding on Arnold's age for his parent's departure took a little research. In "The Journal" Arnold is seen (in Miles' journal) as saying "bye bye Mommy. Bye bye Daddy." He knew exactly what he was saying. And, per google and Baby Center::**_

 _ **"mama" and "dada" may slip out and bring tears to your eyes as early as 6 months. From then on, your baby will pick up more words from you and everyone else around him. And sometime between 18 months and 2 years, he'll begin to form two- to four-word sentences.**_

 _ **So, I deduce that as Arnold knew exactly what he was saying –as well as telling Phil he missed his parents a short time after, per Arnold's dream in "Parents Day"(Arnold looked the same age) and therefore was older.**_

 _ **Third chapter should be up sometime in the next week or so. Enjoy!**_


	3. Chapter 3

Weeks flew by in Hillwood, and all too soon November was upon the Sunset Arms household. There were two new tenants, a newlywed husband and wife called Oskar and Suzie. Suzie adored Arnold and was quick to offer to babysit as much as her double shifts would allow.

Phil grew worried about his beloved with each passing day. His Gertrude was losing touch with reality, and it was even growing more obvious to the boarders- who, although were all a bunch of misfits, still held onto their sanity. Ernie had even suggested a mental institution. Maybe it wasn't- Phil shook his head, clearing his thoughts. What a terrible husband he was, to think of sending her away. She'd be alright, as soon as their baby returned home.

A few weeks went by, and as Phil and Arnold entered the house one day after a play date with an african american couple's son Gerald down the street, Phil hit the ground in a barrel roll, clutching Arnold to his chest.

A Whizznobbie firework blazed by, going out the door just as it exploded. Phil stood, twitching in anger as he took in his wife's delighted face.

"HAPPY FOURTH OF JULY, EVERYONE!" She cackled with her head thrown back, looking quite proud of herself, and then Phil's heart dropped.

"Pookie, no. It's Thanksgiving tomorrow, dear. Not the Fourth."

The disappointment in her eyes made Phil's soul ache. "But I…" Then, her eyes lit up again. "The hot dogs are ready to be fired up, Chef! Come on up!"

As she turned and ran to their kitchen, Ernie stood with a hand on the bannister, looking to Phil. Quietly, he whispered, "Phil?"

In the single word, was a million questions. Mostly, the present one: To ignore this, or just go with it. Clearly, Gertrude wasn't getting better. Phil bit his lip and jiggled his grandson, looking out to the blustery day that was late November. Sighing, he tightened Arnolds coat and faked a huge smile so the toddler wouldn't think anything was wrong.

"Off to the roof! We've got hot dogs to cook!"

As weeks went by, Phil found himself going up to the attic to get Christmas decorations down. He hadn't decorated the house for decades, not since Miles had his last Christmas at home before he went off to college.

 _What year was that? 1968? How time flies…_

As Phil put the box down and scratched his head at the lopsided tree that mostly stood up, the doorbell rang.

"Now, who…?"

He gasped as he flung the door open. It couldn't be… no. He had to be dreaming. He closed his eyes and then opened them, She was still there.

"Daddy… oh, Daddy. I heard about Miles...it was in my town's paper. I had… I had to come."

Tara's words shook him out of his shock, and he all but dragged her in the door, tears filling up his eyes.

"Tara… oh, is it really you?" She dropped her bag by the door and smiled unsurely, but nodded.

"I'm… I'm sorry, Daddy." The two words encompassed so much more than anybody could have imagined.

 _Hillwood, 1955…_

" _I'm going! I can't stand it here anymore! After Johnny died, you two can't keep it together!" Tara stamped her foot, anger sullying the air. She threw back her hair of gold, and grabbed the suitcase she'd planted by the door. The fifteen year old seemed older than her years as the fire gleamed in her eyes. "I hate you both! You spend all day quietly sulking and working. Neither of you have any time for us. It's nothing but misery here, and I'm going somewhere else! Anywhere but here!"_

 _She disappeared out the door, and kissed her longtime beau Michael Vonderschmidt, hurrying him as she got in his car. Phil and Gertie watched them leave, tears pouring down their cheeks. Gertie grasped Phil's hand tight enough to bruise, and Phil petted her hair, kissing her on the cheek. He tried to be reassuring even as his voice wavered and broke as the car drove out of sight._

" _She'll come back, Pookie. If nothing else, once they see how hard it is to live on your own… she'll come back. You know she will."_

 _Somewhere behind them, their five year old asked why his sister was being so loud. Phil gave some answer that seemed inadequate, and then urged the boy to accompany him to the living room so they could play Monopoly. As soon as MIles asked who would play Tara's Dog piece, Phil grabbed the playing piece and put it out of sight from Gertie on a shelf, replying nobody until she returned._

 _They received letters once a year from Michael for a while, assuring them they were fine and even happy, but with no return address, they could never try to make amends. In all fairness, losing her as a consequence of their inner pain caused them to pour everything into making sure Miles grew up happy and healthy._

 _Eventually, the letters stopped, and this caused Phil to pour even more of himself into his last reachable child. He took the letters and locked them in a firebox, putting them deep in the attic. Gertie would never find them._

* * *

Phil lead his daughter into the living room, fighting the urge to dance in his joy. Tara took in the renovations they had done in the decades since she'd been there, and finally she sat and together she and Phil indulged in uncomfortable silence until she sighed and finally spoke.

"There's a lot of years to catch up on, I suppose."

The forty five year old took out a small album from her large purse and shoved it towards Phil. "Mike and I got married in 1958, as soon as I was eighteen. Until then, we took up separate bedrooms in any boarding house we could. In 1960, we had a little baby boy… I named him Jonathan, in honor of my little brother. We had twin girls in 1965, called them Lisa and Leslie, and then our late bloomer Michael Jr in 1975."

She paused and then took the album back. "We've had a good marriage, Daddy. He did really well as a painter. Every day we tried to live like you guys did before Johnny…" Her eyes dimmed and she reached out and grabbed Phil's hand.

"What happened with Miles? The article I read, it mentioned Mister and Missus Shortman…"

She trailed off, obviously unsure how to continue and Phil spoke quietly, the sadness radiating off of him.

"They met in 1980, on one of his trips to San Lorenzo. He's been to so many places, but gods he loved that jungle. They married in '83, and had a baby in October of '85…"

Her eyes widened and her hand came up to cover her mouth, a horrified gasp spilling from it. "No. Oh gods, Daddy. A baby?! Don't tell me…"

Phil quickly shook his head, calming her as he gripped her hands. As if on cue, the little one toddled in, grabbing onto nearby things to steady himself and giggled at his grandpa. Phil smiled and picked the boy up, bouncing him.

"This is Arnold. They got called back to San Lorenzo on an emergency mission back in July...we volunteered to care for the Lil Shortman until they get back. Hopefully, that's soon."

Tara seemed caught up in Arnold's soft green gaze, and finally she met Phil's eyes, her voice soft as it mentioned what had been going through his own mind secretly.

"And if they don't? Daddy, you're old. You and Mom both. Can you really care for him as old as you are, and you're only going to get…. Well, older."

Phil didn't flinch, although he had questioned the very same thing mere days ago. "When Pookie and I begin feeling our age, we will make provisions for our grandson. Right now, we are I am seventy and feel perfectly fine. I'll do whatever is best for Arnold, even if it hurts us."

The thought of giving Arnold to someone else to raise caused Phil's heart to skip a beat, especially as Tara looked at him doubtfully. "Fine then. Know my home is always open to him, when you realize his energy level is far too much for you and Mom."

She seemed on edge after that, although Phil couldn't be sure why. He mentioned getting Gertie up from her nap just so she and Tara could reunite, but Tara edged away from that, instead throwing her father a smile he hadn't seen in decades but still recognized- the one that said she was giving him a bold-faced lie and didn't want to admit it- and swore she'd just come again soon. Not long after, she left and promised to be in touch.

The next week, Phil received a summons from Hillwood Judicial System, for a custody dispute of his and Gertie's custody of Arnold. In the letter, Phil scanned to see who had contested their rights, and his heart dropped to see his daughter's name in the paperwork.


End file.
